


Don't Think You Wanna

by kbs_was_here



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbs_was_here/pseuds/kbs_was_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>90's AU (because every fandom needs one) - Carmilla works in a music store.</p><p>This is really just a quick headcanon more than anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think You Wanna

It’s not like she needs a job, it’s just something to fill the time. They’re half a decade away from the turn of the millenium and her mother’s holed up somewhere in Europe, conserving mystical energy. So, with a few years to herself, Carmilla does what any young woman with a sense of ennui and way too much formal education does in 1995: She gets a job in a music store.

From her spot behind the counter, her day is made up of answering questions about how much things cost and whether or not the Foo Fighters are actually any good, because yeah, Dave Grohl’s a great drummer but can he succeed without Kurt Cobain? When she’s not answering mind-numbing questions, Carmilla reads. She’s probably supposed to be doing things like re-stocking bins and making sure Whitney Houston isn’t misplaced in the Rap or Metal sections, but she figures that as long as no one’s stealing anything and she’s punching in the right numbers on the register, what does it matter?

She’s halfway through the mass market paperback copy of Kiss the Girls that someone left in the store’s lost and found when a tall, very tall, redhead approaches the counter with a copy of Swamp Ophelia in her hand. Carmilla’s seen her before, not in the store, but across the street working at the book shop. Another retail slave, it seems.

“Hi, um, can I listen to this?”

Carmilla eyes the Indigo Girls album, then takes another look at the girl. “Sure thing, carrot cake.” She takes the cd and opens it up, slipping the disc into the player behind the counter before she hands over a pair of headphones.

The girl accepts the headphones, but before she slips them on, she says, “It’s Danny.”

“What is?”

“My name. It’s Danny. Not… carrot cake.” She places the headphones on her head and listens to the album’s opening track.

“Sure thing, licorice whip,” Carmilla mutters. She basically tries to go back to her novel while Danny listens to each track for about thirty seconds before skipping to the next song. And then, almost immediately, she can’t take it anymore. She digs around in her bag, past the thermos labeled “soup” and the crumpled fliers for shows she’s considering attending. Ultimately, she finds what she’s looking for, opens the case, flips it open, and hits stop on the cd player.

“Hey, I was listening to--”

“Yeah, yeah. You can get right back to the amatuer girl-on-girl makeout party music after you check this out.” Carmilla tosses the first disc aside and pops the other in the player. Danny’s about to object, but then the music begins and she’s compelled to listen.

“Who is this?” she shouts.

Carmilla smirks and slides the case across the counter. “Sleater Kinney.”

Danny pulls the headphones down so they’re hanging around her neck. “How much is it?”

“You can’t buy it.” At Danny’s confusion, Carmilla continues. “Not here, I mean. We don’t have it. I got that at a show.”

“Oh. That sucks. That I can’t buy it. Not that you went to their show. That sounds pretty cool, actually.”

“It was.” Carmilla opens the player and places the cd back in its case. “Tell you what, you can borrow it, make a tape or whatever. Just bring it back tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

Carmilla pushes the case even further across the counter, basically forcing Danny to grab it before it falls off the edge. “Yeah. And if you don’t come back, I know where to find you.”

“Well,” Danny removes the headphones completely and hands them back to Carmilla. “Something tells me having you come find me may not be the worst thing, ever.”

“Guess you’ll have to decide if you want to find out.”

“See you tomorrow,” Danny says. She’s about to leave, but then she lingers. “If the Indigo Girls are amatuer girl-on-girl make out party music, then what’s this?” she asks, holding up the borrowed album.

Carmilla leans an elbow on the counter. “That one you’ll definitely have to decide if you want to find out.”


End file.
